


Apprentices

by Elendiliel



Series: Lightning Strikes [7]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Planet Onderon (Star Wars), Post-Order 66 (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendiliel/pseuds/Elendiliel
Summary: Months after Order 66, Lightning Squadron are back in the field, racing to prevent or alleviate an impending Imperial occupation of a planet well-known to the Jedi. The odds are stacked against them, but help is about to come from an unexpected quarter.
Series: Lightning Strikes [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087898
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Apprentices

Some sentences, and for that matter some words, can provoke instant, stereotyped reactions, although what those reactions are can vary from person to person. For instance, when “Stop, thief!” echoes through a market square, some people have to check that they’re not the object of the speaker’s wrath, some people get out of the way, and some people try to stop whoever is being chased. Only a few will pause and assess the situation. Helli Abbasa was one such person.

Once, she might have been of the stop-them persuasion, although she’d have done so with minimal force and tried to defuse whatever unpleasant situation arose next with maximum compassion. But war can make a pragmatist of even the most starry-eyed, and Helli had never been as naïve as some people thought in the first place. While she knew theft was objectively wrong, she distinguished between stealing for fun, stealing for profit and stealing to survive, and handled each case accordingly. By the looks of things, the human boy being chased by an irate stallholder fell firmly into the third category. She’d have been minded to help him even if she hadn’t recognised the way he rolled and sprang to his feet when someone in the crowd tried to trip him. Or, for that matter, the object that must have been knocked out of his pocket or belt when he hit the ground. What was _that_ doing there?

Before anyone noticed, Helli summoned the boy’s lightsabre (assuming it _was_ his) and slipped it up her sleeve as she strode over towards its owner, who had nearly been subdued by a group of concerned citizens. Nearly. He still had enough use of his legs to land a painful-looking blow to the kneecap of one of his captors. She knew that style, and the two people most likely to have taught it to him. “What’s going on here?” She was careful to modulate her tone, dialling back the authority now that she was no longer a Republic General and injecting plenty of curiosity, but leaving just enough self-assurance that nobody would question her or lie to her.

“This young hooligan tried to steal from me.”

“Tried? So he didn’t actually take anything?”

“Well, no. The moment I saw what he was up to, he dropped everything and ran.”

“So, no actual harm done. Why were you chasing him, then? Just on general principle?” The stallholder glared at her, and she knew she had him. “Tell you what. Let’s go back to your stall, and I’ll buy my young friend here whatever he needs, plus anything _I_ need. Does that sound fair?” The man could hardly say no. Helli was glad she was in funds at that time. Judging by the boy’s order, he was foraging for several people, and she herself was shopping for four. The stallholder tried to overcharge her, but not ridiculously so, and she haggled a fair price out of habit more than anything else.

Purchases made, and the process repeated at a few other stalls, Helli led the boy out of the market square, ensuring that he didn’t bolt from this suspicious stranger by the simple expedient of keeping the bag containing his food firmly over her shoulder, and, when they were alone, returned his sabre to him. “Word of advice, youngling – keep that somewhere safe. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”

“Are you a Jedi?” His voice was laced with suspicion and caution. Helli understood. Ever since Order 66 had been declared, all Jedi, even the younglings, were officially traitors. She’d been in the field at the time, and details about what had happened in the Temple were hard to come by, but she’d heard disturbing rumours.

“I am. Jedi Knight Helli Abbasa, at your service. I apprenticed with Master Yord Qass until his death in the first year of the war, then with anyone who would put up with me until I was ready for my trials. Since then I’ve been commander of Lightning Squadron, formerly part of the 501st Legion, now independent.” That was one way of putting it. “Rogue” was another. “And you are?”

“First, prove that you’re really who you say you are.” Valid. Helli slung her pack (now altered to pass muster as a shopping bag) off one shoulder, opened it and summoned her sabre. She held it out to him. “Take it. No, don’t ignite it!” Just in time. That would have been a dead giveaway. “Just try to connect with the crystal. They often carry impressions of the person who made the sabre.” He looked blankly at her. “Look, I’ll demonstrate with yours, if you don’t mind.” He held it out, still justifiably wary. She shut her eyes and reached for his crystal with her senses. He hadn’t had it long, but there was enough there. “You’re from an industrial planet. Corellia? Thought so. Your Gathering challenge was to rescue a friend. You’ve been through the mill a bit since then – I’m reading pirates, battle droids, and _Grievous_.” She was out of practice. Anger leaked into her voice as she mentioned the Separatist General. But the sabre’s message wasn’t finished. She couldn’t bring herself to verbalise the rest. Believing it was hard enough. “It’s showing me what happened in the Temple. I’d heard rumours, but…” She shook her head, words failing her. “Anyway, did you sense how I did that?”

“Only one way to find out.” Confident young imp, this one. Maybe _too_ confident, even after living through what she had just seen. But in this case, it was justified. He closed his eyes, as she had, and she sensed him reaching out for her crystal’s embedded memories. “Is that your home? It’s _beautiful_.” He must be seeing Alba. “Yes, that’s my birth-world. Not my home, though. And it is lovely – when the rain lets up.” He laughed. “Yeah, I got that impression.” He lapsed into uncharacteristic-seeming silence. She wondered what it was showing him. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. She was a war Jedi, a peacemaker turned soldier. There were so many memories of the past few years she never wanted to revisit. But by his expression, he was seeing more wins than losses. Her friendships with her fellow apprentices and a handful of the masters. The dozens of small victories Lightning Squadron had achieved. The mission to rescue Fives. Echo’s return past all reasonable hope. There was only one dicey moment, when he cried out and seemed about to pull away. Order 66. She knew that that could give him a very wrong impression, and put her hands over his, still holding her sabre. “Keep going.”

It paid off. The smile that crossed his face told her he was seeing what had happened next. Waking up to find herself alive, free, and with a whole new challenge ahead of her. He opened his eyes and offered her sabre back to her. “You’re definitely for real. I’m sorry. I had to be sure.”

“I understand. I suppose I was taking a risk, too, trusting you. But trust has to start somewhere. Now, shall we get this lot to your friends? I’d say there are about six of you, going by the amount of food in here. _Please_ tell me they’re somewhere safe.”

“I hope so. Follow me. I’m Petro, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you.” She followed him through a maze of alleys, hoping he did actually know where he was going. She knew boys and men like him, and a few girls and women. They never admitted when they were wrong, or lost. Come to that, _she_ could be like that at times.

His friends were, indeed, safe from discovery, although she was deeply uneasy about the state of the basement they’d fixed up as a temporary hideout. It had _better_ have been temporary. There were, as she had guessed, five others, all about the same age. She sorted them into recognisable types as they were introduced. Petro was clearly the official leader, but kept firmly in line by his lieutenant, a gentle-looking female Tholothian with steel in her soul named Katooni. She didn’t immediately accept Petro’s word that Helli was what she claimed, but questioned her about the Temple, the Order and their shared training until she was satisfied. Helli couldn’t blame her. The resident techie – there was always one – was easy to spot. Zatt, a Nautolan boy, barely glanced up from his datapad. Ganodi, a quiet Rodian girl, had the dreamy eyes of a star-struck pilot. It seemed a little unfair to categorise Gungi, a congenitally cheerful male Wookie, as the team’s main fighter, but she couldn’t fit him into any other class. Lastly, Byph, a shy Ithorian boy, appeared to be a professional pessimist. They were surprisingly useful, especially when it came to filling gaps in strategies and coming up with alternative plans.

Food delivered and introductions made, Helli stood, narrowly avoiding a broken beam, and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Well, I’d best be on my way. My brothers will be waiting. You’d be more than welcome to come along, all of you.”

“Brothers? There are other Jedi with you?” Katooni was instantly equal parts hopeful and suspicious again. Helli now regretted not mentioning the others before.

“I’m afraid not. I meant my brothers in arms. The rest of my squadron, bar our man on the inside.”

“ _Clones_? How do you know you can trust them?” Katooni’s question was echoed all around the room, in three languages.

“They’ve broken their conditioning. They’re free agents now – a fact to which I owe my life. And I was due to meet them half an hour ago. Coming?” They were. The six younglings found the climb over Iziz’s rooftops only a little more taxing than Helli did. They were in good shape still. Nearly ready for apprenticeship, she thought, and immediately tried to unthink. There was so much that just could not happen for a long, long time. Maybe never.

The safe-house Lightning Squadron were using had once been a rebel base. They had got the address from their inside man, Torrent, who was in touch with ex-Commander Rex and ex-Padawan Tano. It was he who had alerted them to the situation there. After months of hitch-hiking and picking up odd jobs to make a living, the squad were, to a person, glad to be back in the field. Even if it wasn’t quite as it used to be.

Helli gave the password, and Spark opened the door. He stared at them for a moment before inviting them in. Helli understood his caution about the younglings, but it took her a few seconds to realise that he hadn’t immediately recognised _her_. She’d become adept at changing her appearance since Order 66. They all had. Hair dye and coloured contact lenses were essential items now. The profusion of curls escaping from her headscarf (which covered her tell-tale ears) were the blue-black shade common there on Onderon rather than their natural polished-wood red-brown, and her dark set-honey eyes looked like a pair of sapphires. Their shape, and that of her face along with its colour, had been carefully altered with makeup. It wasn’t likely that anyone there would recognise Jedi General Abbasa, even if she weren’t officially dead, but she wasn’t about to take chances.

“Hel, what are you _doing_?”, Spark whispered, pulling her out of earshot of her guests. “This is a serious mission, and we can’t have a lot of kids cluttering up the place.”

“They’re not just children. They’re Jedi younglings. My brothers and sisters. I imagine you’d feel the same way about a group of cadets.”

“That’s not the same thing. We’re _bred_ for battle. You aren’t.”

“No, but we’re chosen and trained as peacekeepers from a young age. Same difference. Besides, I remember hearing rumours about these younglings. They beat Hondo Ohnaka’s pirates, not once but twice, and outsmarted and outran General Grievous’ army, with guidance from one apprentice and a couple of droids. They’re not ordinary children, insofar as such a thing even exists. But now they have no Temple, no masters, no padawans, even. If I don’t help them, they’re on their own in a galaxy where Jedi are targets. I know they’ll probably muddle along, but _probably_ isn’t good enough.”

“Oh, all right. As long as they pull their weight. And if the others agree.”

That was a pretty safe bet, Helli thought as she saw Fives chatting happily to Petro and Katooni. Zatt was pestering Echo about his cybernetic enhancements, and wearing him down with impressive speed. The others were wary of these new surroundings, and the people they had so recently learned to consider enemies.

“OK, Hel, what have you got for us?”, Fives asked as she sat down. He didn’t mean the shopping, which had been a secondary objective. The four of them had spent that day making a preliminary recon of the city’s defences and an impending Imperial occupation. Echo had been probing the computer network as only he could. Fives had done a perimeter sweep, assessing Iziz’s own defensive capabilities, and Spark had set up long-range scanning and comms interception equipment in the safe-house. Hel had drawn the short straw. Talking to people. She summarised all this to the younglings, giving them the choice as to whether or not they got involved in what could become a full-scale war, and they didn’t hesitate to join in. She got on with her report.

“King Dendup is trying to be cautious. He knows better than to stay completely neutral, but he’s waiting to see what happens. He’s still hoping for the level of independence Onderon enjoyed before the war, and the Empire seems to be encouraging him in that belief.”

“He’s a fool if he thinks he can keep the Empire at arm’s length.” Fives had a gift for concision.

“Agreed, but he’s a crowned fool, which means treading carefully. He’s a good man, who wants to do what’s best for his people, but he doesn’t know the Empire the way we do. Senator Bonteri is conflicted. He’s loyal to the Republic, but his decision to join it was influenced by fighting alongside the Jedi – and the Empire has declared us traitors. Now he doesn’t know what to think.”

“ _Join_ the Republic? What was he before?” Of course Echo had spotted that.

“Separatist originally, like his parents. His father was killed in action against us, but his mother was murdered on Dooku’s orders and he left the Confederacy. Nearly drifted to Death Watch, but fetched up with Onderon’s freedom fighters instead, just as they appealed for Republic help, and got it.”

“Yes, I heard.” Helli recalled that the team that had trained the rebel force had included Fives’ old friend Rex. “Speaking of which, how did you get on with Gerrera?”

“Different shuttle of clankers altogether. His sister died for Onderon’s freedom. He’s not about to let her sacrifice be wasted. If it comes to open battle, the difficult part will be holding him back. He’d already started rallying his troops when I arrived.”

“Yes, I saw them. They look like good fighters, but their tactics are designed for droids. If they go up against anyone else, they’ll be cut to pieces. I hope the royal army is better prepared in that respect.”

“I imagine so. They were mainly engaged in putting down insurgencies not so long ago. I don’t think anyone could have expected them to join up with the rebels, but they did, to throw out the Seps.”

“Even so, we can’t let them go head to head with the Empire just yet. The Imps are sure to have more men, better armed, better trained. It’d be a bloodbath. Iziz is well defended, at least. Torrent sent us Rex’s and Tano’s reports from their mission here, and it looks as though more layers of security have been added since then. But that could just mean a siege, and the Imps can afford to wait. There’s no guarantee anyone else will be coming this time.”

“I agree. As far as external help is concerned, we could well be it. Ah well. That was the idea last time – minimal intervention. No occupation, no over-dependence on outside forces. It’s a good policy – _if_ the people of Onderon win. Echo, how was your day?”

“Not the most exciting I’ve ever had. But I can now monitor Iziz’s entire internal communications and computer networks. Judging by recent comms activity, General Tandin has come to the same conclusions we have. He and Gerrera have been in regular contact, and Tandin’s ordered training exercises that sound suspiciously like guerrilla tactics. He knows he can’t afford a full-scale engagement. And he’s stockpiling both munitions and provisions – for the citizens as well as the army. As much as he can without royal approval. But I don’t think it’ll be enough.”

“I think I know how to deal with that.” Katooni’s interruption made everyone jump. She’d been reading a datapad displaying Commander Tano’s reports, which Fives had left on the table. _Classified_ reports. Hel didn’t want to know how Torrent had got hold of those. She just hoped her bombad pallo hadn’t got into trouble doing so.

“How?” Hel took charge without thinking.

“Last time the Jedi were here, Separatist gunships nearly destroyed the rebel forces and the royal army. The only reason they were stopped was that Hondo Ohnaka got through with a shipment of rocket launchers.” She looked Hel straight in the eyes. “I know Hondo. I’m pretty sure I can persuade him to run supplies here – arms _and_ food.”

“How sure? Hondo is famously mercurial. And mercenary. We don’t want to saddle Onderon with a massive debt problem. That can be worse than invasion.”

“Sure enough – if the price is right. He tried to charge the Jedi Council for rescuing us.”

“Even after _you_ rescued _him_? I hope the Council sent him packing!”

“I don’t know. I do know he doesn’t take credits. He prefers spice.”

“Spice means dealing with the Pykes – or going to the source on Kessel. Neither really appeals. But it’s a good idea. Keep working on it. Spark, what’s your report?”

“Well, I’ve got the scanner system working. It’s the usual lash-up, but it’ll pick up anything within or near the planet’s orbit. Nothing at the moment, unless it’s cloaked. But I’m having trouble getting the communications monitoring equipment up and running. I think something must have broken while we were moving it around. This gear is meant to be installed on a ship, not carried from safe-house to safe-house, freighter to shuttle.”

“I can help you with that.” Hel had seen how Zatt’s eyes lit up when Spark was talking about technical matters, even in general terms, and wasn’t surprised when he offered his assistance. “And I’ve had some ideas about detecting cloaked ships.”

“If you could, that’d be great. I’ll show you the setup later.” Hel hid a smile. Spark had accepted at least one of the newcomers. All it took was a shared passion.

“It might have to be a _lot_ later – or right now.” Echo’s tone stopped all of them in their tracks. “I’m picking up a general announcement. The Empire has officially annexed this planet. King Dendup is stepping down, and will act as advisor to the new Imperial governor. General Tandin is retiring, and all troops are required to comply with his successor’s orders.”

“Skies above! Dendup must have tried to bargain. Well, he’s not the first person Palpatine’s tricked like that, and he won’t be the last. Check the sc- oh, you’ve gone already.”

“One ship just dropped out of hyperspace. Reads like a cruiser, but it’s a whole lot bigger. I think it’s one of the Empire’s new Star Destroyers. It’s launched a shuttle, which is on its way down to Iziz.”

“And it’ll be let through. I just heard the order.” Echo was still monitoring the communications network around the city.

“Any news of Bonteri or Gerrera?”

“Nothing about Bonteri. Gerrera has been declared an enemy of the state, to be captured or killed on sight.”

“They’re not complete idiots. They know he’s dangerous.” Fives had rejoined the conversation.

“Not completely wise either. Bonteri has 501 training, same as Gerrera, and he’s just as much an idealist, even if those ideals shift direction sometimes. And he’s a born politician. Words _and_ weapons. If anything, he’s the more dangerous of the two.”

“And if I’m not much mistaken, he’s coming here.” Spark wasn’t mistaken at all. Lux Bonteri gave the password Helli had given him earlier that day, just in case, and was shown in. He looked understandably surprised to see the de facto conference room full of miniature Jedi.

“Master Abbasa? What are all these children doing here?”

“Helli, _please_. And these _children_ are Jedi younglings. They’ve been helping us plan our strategy. Which, I hear, may have to change somewhat.”

“That’s an understatement. Dendup is a prisoner, and Tandin is dead. The Empire’s agents were here before you arrived. Even I didn’t know they were here until a few hours ago. They’ve been putting pressure on the King for days, promising him his people will be safe if he abdicates. Today, he finally caved in. Tandin objected, and they shot him. I knew I couldn’t do anything by myself, so I came to you.”

“Well, we’ll do our best. It’s strange that Dendup didn’t mention any of this to me this morning.” A horrible thought occurred to her. “Do they know I’m here? Is that why they moved in today?”

“I don’t think so. I had the impression that this was planned well in advance. By the way, should your apprentices really be hearing this?”

“They’ve heard worse. _Seen_ worse. And they’re not my apprentices.”

“Why not?”, Petro put in. “We were going to have started our apprenticeships by now anyway.”

“Because the Council hasn’t approved it. Besides, there’s one of me and there are six of you. There’s no precedent for that.”

Byph’s reply translated roughly to, “Well, there’s no precedent for this, either.”

“Byph’s right. And if any of the Council survived, they’re not in any position to object.” Petro was, unfortunately, correct. Helli knew better than to fight a battle already lost.

“Oh, have it your own way. This is highly irregular, but if the Order is restored in our lifetimes we can deal with it then. Okeyday. Zatt, I want you to work with Spark and Echo on the scanners and monitors. Information is power. Katooni, Ganodi, you’re on supply duty. See what you can do to get a channel open to Hondo. He’s bound to have the right contacts. Speaking of contacts, Senator, how many people do you think you can reach from your Separatist days who could help?”

“Some. My mother was well respected. And I can speak to Lady Bo-Katan of Mandalore as well.”

“Brilliant. Byph, if you can help with that, that’d be great. Fives, Gungi, we need to track down Gerrera, and fast. That’s your job. Petro, you’re with me. We’re going to see a man about a king.”

**Author's Note:**

> The story continues in Part 9 of _Lightning Strikes_ , "A Right Royal Mess". (I apologise for the non-linearity of these stories; plots for me behave like buses after severe traffic problems. They turn up all at once and in any old order.) If you want to find out what happens next, that is the fic you are looking for.
> 
> Update: all the Onderon and Onderon-adjacent fics in this series now have their own sub-series, in chronological order. I hope this helps clarify matters.


End file.
